


Justice Is Coming

by kleine_aster



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Hate Sex, Humiliation, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Power Play, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2757659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleine_aster/pseuds/kleine_aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman needs to understand that nobody has dominion over his body and his pleasure other than Superman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Justice Is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in one of those bazillion universes where Clark/Kal is an evil version of himself, maybe Justice Lords or Injustice or idk, you can take your pick. Also, I have no excuse for this other than that I love needy Bottom!Bruce kinda a lot. This was supposed to be like a 100 words thing and then it wasn’t.
> 
> PS: There’s a disparaging comment about Selina in this, and I want to make clear that this is because Supes is a dick, not a slam against her.
> 
> PPS: I couldn’t resist the title, but honestly, the fic isn’t funny at all XD

“ _Please_ , Kal,” he says. “Please, Kal.  _Please_.”

And Kal El sweetly smiles down at him, one single dark curl touching his sweaty forehead, and whispers, “No.”

There’s precious few things in the world that he loves as much as watching Bruce not get what he wants; he almost loves it more than bathing in the sun. He loves seeing him quiver on the edge of climax, listening to his labored moans and grunts as he gets all worked up, feeling his mounting excitement when he foolishly starts believing that this time, he might be allowed to come, and then watching that look of pure  _loss_  cross his face when Kal pulls out of him, leaving him wet and wanting. With his heightened senses, Kal can monitor his every move, every twitch, every  _clench_ , the accumulation of sweat on his scarred skin, the tautness of the sinews in his broad thighs, the flow of blood rushing through his desperately aroused cock. If he can sense it, he can control it. He has that power, and he loves it so.

This form of discipline he reserves strictly for the Bat, and that makes it so fun, because he’s the _prideful_  one, the  _renitent_  one. A superiority complex in a bulletproof suit, armed to the teeth both in body and mind, always with that look on his face as if he’s smelled something bad, as if he’s above them, as if nothing can touch him. That he’s also singularly desperate for someone to throw him down and fuck him but good is one of his best kept secrets, but now that Kal knows about it, there’s no stopping him from exploiting it until he gets bored of it; which won’t be anytime soon.

It’s taken some work to break the Bat down like this, but Kal El has never been one to eschew hard work; and whenever he’s on top of him, pounding into him until he gets to see him flat-out embarrass himself, he’s reminded that the hardest work is also the most rewarding.

Underneath him, Bruce is all bared teeth and crazed deep-set blue eyes. He seems unwilling to repeat his pleas from before, snarling at him like a wild dog instead, but with the way he’s shoving his hips at him, he’s not fooling anybody.

Kal smiles at him. “You’re as wide as barn door,” he says amiably.

He chuckles at the look of hurt and shame that crosses Bruce’s heavy features, then leans down to smack a kiss on his temple. He himself couldn’t feel better; Bruce is taking him good and hard and deep, and  _he_  already knows that he will get his.

He’s let him wait for this night for a long time. It’s his favorite thing; starving him until he’s practically salivating for some cock, even though he knows he might get left panting and hard. Kal, who has the powers of a god, always makes sure that Bruce doesn’t get to mess around with anyone else, or keep himself satisfied by way of his fingers more than Kal finds appropriate. Batman needs to understand that nobody has dominion over his body and his pleasure other than Superman. Kal feels that he’s learned his lesson quite well; after all, he always comes crawling back to him, ready and willing and with his legs so wide that even Selina Kyle would find he’s overdoing it.

Sometimes, when Kal feels generous instead of cruel, he lets him have it. Even the most stubborn of pets deserves a treat on occasion; and besides, Kal wouldn’t want him to stop trying. Bruce is a hard worker, and it’s too much fun to see him work so hard for something he probably won’t attain, but might.

Sometimes, when Kal feels  _a little_  generous, he lets him have it, but not without messing up the rhythm at the right moment to give him one of those sloppy, slightly ruined orgasms. The effects of that are always amusing to watch. As is seeing Batman stomp around all cranky and on-edge for the following week. Since he’s pretty much always that, none of the others can tell the difference.

Most of the time, however, Kal feels cruel.

He’s not sure yet how he feels tonight. He might pull out of him at the last moment, and let him watch with wide, hate-filled eyes as he finishes himself over his warm, squirming body. (Bruce knows better than to try touching himself in Kal’s presence.) He does so like seeing the quiver in Bruce’s thighs when he makes him get dressed and sends him away like a servant afterwards.

Or he could … he could decide to be a loving god tonight.

"How’d you like it," he tenderly mutters against his mouth, "If I sent you on your way like this, Bruce…? If I sent you out there now, dripping and  _reeking_  like you do…? Think you can get your  _problem_  under control fast enough to get home with some dignity? Or perhaps I should call everyone for a meeting, right now, watch how you’d do in it. Shall we see what happens?”

There’s a hiss from Bruce’s stern mouth, and his face darkens with a rage so fierce Kal can almost taste it, but the genuine worry in his voice betrays him when he gasps, “Don’t.  _Don’t_. You  _dare_ ,” because he  _knows_  Kal is the kind to actually make him do it.  _Nobody_  gets to talk to Batman like that, usually, but they’ve been at it long enough for him to know that Kal’s threats are never idle.

Kal licks his lips, and switches gears to nail him very, very slowly, because he _hates_  that. He can feel his bent ankles twitch in frustration.

"Mmm," he purrs, ignoring the human’s droll attempt to give him orders, "What would you give for me  _not_  to do that…?”

And Batman, bless his poor, horny little soul, he seriously growls, “Wh-what do you want?”

The Bat is proud, but Superman’s got him so tightly wrapped around his cock that he knows he’d do  _anything_  for him not to pull away. Kal couldn’t even touch his stiff member right now without having him erupt immediately. Not that he’d ever do that. It’d spoil his fun.

With a gentle smile, he cups Bruce’s scowling face. Sometimes, in nights like these, he gets to see tears. However, tonight is not one of those nights. The Bat’s in one of his defiant moods.

"I want what I always want, Bruce," he says mildly. "I want your loyalty, your _compliance_. I want you in line, not only in here, but out there, in front of everyone. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

There’s a hoarse roar, and then Bruce’s hands are around Kal’s throat, squeezing him. It makes him laugh. He’s invulnerable; this does nothing, it won’t even bruise. And even if it did, Bruce wouldn’t be able to go through with it. Batman doesn’t kill. It’s probably the only reason why Bruce allows himself to even try this. It’s almost too bad; if Kal could trust him not to get any smart ideas, he could bring some Kryptonite into the bedroom, make it a fun little erotic game. It’s a waste, but Kal lets him do it, anyway. It’s always fun to see him exert himself.

Bruce glares at him, but then his face breaks and goes all  _soft_  and wanting when Kal starts screwing him faster, the way he likes it. His voice slides up the register as Kal slides in and out of him, and it’s the sweetest thing.

"Can you do that for me," he repeats patiently.

"Yes," Bruce gasps, and Kal smiles in response, even though he knows that his enthusiasm is less aimed at the proposal than the cock he’s receiving, but it’s still sweet to hear. "Yes.  _Yes._ ”

"You’ll hate yourself for this later, won’t you," Kal coos at him, pursing his lips. 

“ _Y e s_.”

Bruce’s face twitches again, mouth sneering with disdain, but the way he slams himself into Kal’s thrusting hips is so, so violent. He’s arching his back, which means that Kal has mere moments left before he has to decide if he’ll grant him his release or not; knowing that he can  _still_  take it away is such a rush, and he feels his own climax fast approaching. The smell of human sweat is everywhere, it’s overwhelming, and Kal revels in it. Going a round with his favorite always does him so good.

"All I want," he murmurs, "All I want from you, Bruce, is to understand that  _I own you_.”

Batman’s hands twitch around his throat, once, twice, then they release him and slide down to scratch at his broad chest. It leaves no mark either, but Kal almost wishes it did, because it’s all lust and need now. He watches Bruce get a raw, almost  _wounded_  look in his eyes as he starts coming and Kal lets him, keeping his rhythm steady and fucking him all the way through. The noises his human plaything is making are beyond compare, his climax is loud and wet, and Kal is almost sure that Bruce is straining something and will probably be in deep pain afterwards.  And through everything, he still feels his lingering fear that Kal might kill it for him, because he has that power, and that alone is enough to get him to come, too. He moans as he spends himself inside of him, something he hasn’t done in a long while, which makes it a special night for both of them.

Bruce is still gasping as Kal rolls off of him. His hard, shaky breaths sound vaguely grateful, and also as if he’s on the verge of something still, possibly tears.

As soon as it’s done, however, he becomes very still, very quiet. He lies there as if his soul has left his body, which it possibly has. But when Kal reaches for him, he turns his back, curling into a scar-studded ball on Superman’s lavish bed.

"Ah," Kal sighs, sprawling out next to him, feeling like he owns the world. "Remember when you used to love me?"


End file.
